Forrest > Recent Status Updates

Murakami likes to note how things aren't sexual, while playing with sexual tension. Weird.

This is the magnificent world of a picaresque novel. Indeed, it is. Way to break the fourth wall without breaking the novel, Murakami. Layers upon layers . . .

"The Recruiter" is the kind of story I was hoping for from this collection. A modern dirge of timeless dread. An existential survey of the landscape of death and being. And not one mention of Cthulhu or any of his cronies, at least not directly. Four stars. Pushing on . . .

[Note to self: The second full paragraph here needs to be quoted directly and fully.]

As with other Murakami characters, I suspect Ayumi isn't everything she seems. But then, it would be a shock if she was exactly what she seems. Either way, I'm waiting for the shoe to drop.

Again with the metafiction and the outright references to Lovecraft and the extreme strain to my willing suspension of disbelief? Is there no subtlety? Bleh. One step closer to lemming this. Two stars. If there's another two star, I'm quitting. Life's too short, even with well-written sentences. A waste of talent. But hey, I'm not Shea. Still, bleh.

The idea that one should engage a work of art as if it was created and meant specifically for you is profound. This is the kind of appreciation that art deserves.

Ah, unchecked consumerism. The source of so many of our problems, affecting . . . art?!? Or, more properly, effecting artifice.

That's more like it. In "The Presentation," street art meets comix meets the 1% meets . . . something . . . beyond. While I didn't enjoy the metaphysical aspect of it, this was a pretty good story. Not great, but worth the read. Three stars floating in space around a cosmic blob in the void.

Halfway through "The Presentation". The writing, the syntax and vocabulary, that is, is impressive. But the metafictional aspect of it is just really jarring. We'll see how this shakes out.

Tengo's discovery of literature is very well described by Murakami's metaphor of a forest to be explored, with all the possibilities it provides.

Well, that was definitely the most disturbing info dump I've ever read. And it was engaging enough to be disturbing. So kudos to Murakami for that.

[Note to self] The last para about art and its referents, about what art is "about", and why it doesn't matter, seems to be a central thesis of this chapter. Quote it and dissect it.

"Nemo Me Impune Lacessit" sings prettily, but the lyrics are shallow and hackneyed. Three stars and I am quickly losing all patience with this collection.

Groveling at the altar of Lovecraft, no matter how eloquently, is still groveling at the altar of Lovecraft. Clever turns of phrase cannot save a weak, thin, and most of all, unsubtle story. My disenchantment with the "mythos" grows. This is fanfic. Well-written fanfic, but fanfic nonetheless. Two stars to "Fat Face," and I think that's being overly generous. I hope this collection improves or . . . lem!

Dostoyevsky and Flaubert's apparent contradiction of conviction versus creation is just what I feel when writing. I'm sometimes asked why I, a religious person, write horror. It's a good question, and I think it has to do with touching the numinous in a different way than my religious practice. Awe is a spiritual feeling and is often evoked through the horrific or the terrifying.

Okay, this is, so far, well-written, but insipid. If it doesn't improve over the first few stories, I'm lemming this. And I was really looking forward to reading it. We shall see . . .

The art vs politics or, rather, art preceding politics notion is compelling.

Ouch. Just ouch. I'm feeling ghost pains from that section about Aomame's training.

I'm not a fan of the use of the word "rifts," though I think Martel uses it deliberately. But I definitely support the underlying concept.

. . . reality itself isn't nearly as smooth and logical as continuity clerks and script supervisors would like us to think it is. Life is full of strange occurrences, missing time, disappearances, synchronicities, and absurd coincidences, all of which . . . seem to be integral to life in this world. In a very real sense, to insist on "realism" is to insist on the unreal.

Great words of wisdom for writers.

Pinko Commie Hippie Farmers! In Japan!